


Heartbeat in Reverse

by ceasefire



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Reunions, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 14:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6569419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceasefire/pseuds/ceasefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Contains spoilers for the Legion alpha.)</p><p>Thassarian and Koltira reunite after Koltira's rescue from the Undercity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartbeat in Reverse

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at WoW fic, and my first fic after a long bout of writer's block. It basically came from my desire for a slightly longer reunion between the two than what we actually got. Self-beta'd, sorry! I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> I already mentioned it in the summary, but please note that this work contains **spoilers for the Legion alpha**.

Summoning his Death Gate after so long seemed to temporarily steal all of Koltira's remaining strength. Thassarian had been the last to retreat, ensuring that Koltira and the Deathlord escaped from the Undercity before he followed; he returned to the sight of Koltira on his feet, but swaying dangerously in a way that suggested that he wouldn't be able to stay that way for much longer. The Deathlord lurched forward to catch him if needed, hooves skidding loudly on the stone floor at the awkward movement. Koltira snarled and shook his head, pre-emptively rejecting her assistance before it came. Sighing, Thassarian stepped forward to assist instead.

"I will take him to the necrosurgeon, Deathlord."

Koltira didn't seem much happier with this arrangement, but he didn't have any time to object before their new leader nodded in agreement and swept off towards the centre of the necropolis, where Darion and Siouxsie awaited her return. She had more pressing matters to attend to than the rescue of a single soldier, even if he was one of the most valuable in terms of strength, and still she had taken the time to assist him in rescuing Koltira. For that, Thassarian expressed his silent gratitude.

Koltira watched her go, allowing Thassarian to help him stand for those few brief seconds. He seemed to realize at that point that Thassarian wasn't going to let him go anywhere before he'd been seen to, and so he shrugged the human's arm away and made for the necrosurgeon himself, his pace as rapid as he could manage. Thassarian was caught off-guard by the sudden movement and hurried to catch up; once he'd closed the gap between them, Koltira glanced over at him with one long brow arched.

"That woman…"

"The new leader of the Ebon Blade, as appointed by Highlord Mograine," Thassarian said. "An intelligent commander, a powerful soldier. The type of leader the Ebon Blade will be needing." Perhaps Koltira was more coherent than his brief moment of weakness had made him seem, but then it was hard to mistake the power of the twin blades that the Deathlord now wielded.

"I see," Koltira said, so carefully and uncharacteristically neutral that Thassarian had to suppress a laugh. Koltira was reserving judgment for later, then.

"You have missed a great deal during your time as the Banshee Queen's captive, brother."

"The Royal Apocethary Society were unable to keep their mouths shut before they were all ordered elsewhere, even though they were always cautious before," Koltira replied, eyes narrowing. "The Legion has returned."

Thassarian hummed in affirmation. "The Ebon Blade has vowed to defend Azeroth, no matter the cost."

"And this was why I was rescued. To be used as one of this Deathlord's army against it."

Thassarian nodded, and Koltira hissed softly under his breath.

"It's been too long since I was able to cause pain. The Forsaken deprived me of it. This will suit my purpose."

"We couldn't retrieve Byfrost," Thassarian said, and Koltira made a soft, dismissive sound in the back of his throat.

"It doesn't matter."

Thassaarian thought that the gaunt lines of Koltira's face, the deep darkness around his eyes and the near-skeletal thinness of his body suggested otherwise about how long Koltira had been deprived of his Runeblade, but he said little else until they reached the necrosurgeon.

The surgeon was a near-mad ex-Cultist with a face so drawn and pale that he could be mistaken for one of the Forsaken, but his expertise hadn't faded as fast as his mind. He rattled off his diagnosis as if he was speaking solely to himself, but it was what Thassarian had been expecting.

The majority of Koltira's wounds were old and the flesh healed over thanks to his Forsaken captors being reassigned to the fight against the Legion, but there were stilll several bones that had healed awkwardly that would need to be broken and re-set, as well as chemical burns and scars that would probably never fade. Several of Koltira's fingernails had been torn from his flesh, but the desperate, raw scratches that proved to be the only fresh wound on the elf's body suggested it may have been preventative rather than any deliberate form of torture; Koltira had said they'd deprived him of causing pain to others, so it was hardly surprising. Causing pain at all would have provided him with some temporary relief, and it seemed the Forsaken hadn't wanted to allow him the reprieve.

The necrosurgeon left Koltira laid out on one of the cold stone slabs that served as the necropolis's operating tables, wrists bound spread-eagle either side of him by rusted metal restraints, and Thassarian knew that what was coming was going to be deeply unpleasant. He turned to ask the necrosurgeon what he inteded to do but the man had already began to wander off somewhere to fetch supplies, muttering wildly to himself the whole way.

"This is a waste of time," Koltira snarled, and Thassarian realized he was smiling despite himself. He'd known that Koltira would let his impatience get the better of him sooner or later, but the elf knew as well as he did that going out wounded and getting killed as the result would render Thassarian and the Deathlord's efforts pointless.

"Thassarian."

Thassarian was drawn from his thoughts by the sound of Koltira's voice, and he glanced down at his brother-in-arms to show he was listening.

"Go. You are probably needed elsewhere."

"Soon," Thassarian replied. "I will wait until the necrosurgeon returns."

"Sentimental fool," Koltira murmured, his tone of voice light despite his words. The corners of Thassarian's lips twitched; even now, after they were parted for so long, Koltira could still see through him with ease. Moving slow, as if hesitating, Thassarian reached out with one gloved hand and pressed his thumb to the inside of Koltira's arm, the clothed pad of his finger following a vein still so stark blue even beneath the open wounds on his skin that he was able to trace it all the way to Koltira's palm.

"I should have come sooner."

Koltira's breathing grew heavier from the sting and his fingertips curled inward, close to Thassarian's hand but not quite touching. "Any attempt before the Forsaken were deployed to fight the Legion would have been suicide."

Thassarian knew that Koltira spoke the truth, and so he saw no need to argue the point. His eyes drifted over the knotted white scars where Koltira's runic tattoos used to be until they were neatly carved from his skin, and came to rest on the creation scar that ran from the base of Koltira's throat to his breastbone; it hadn't faded in the slightest in the years they'd been apart. It looked fresher and more raw than the scratches on his wrists.

"Koltira," Thassarian breathed, reaching up to instead brush the back of his hand against Koltira's cheek, white-blonde hair snagging on his gauntlets, "It really has been too long. I…"

"Never again, brother," Koltira said simply, and Thassarian smiled and withdrew his hand as an echoing voice heralded the return of the necrosurgeon. Darion and the Deathlord would surely know where he is but still be missing him, and so he nodded once more to Koltira is farewell before turning on his heel to leave.

"Suffer well, brother."

Koltira's smirk was practically palpable as he walked away, and he tried to ignore the rush of prickly heat beneath his cold skin as the sounds of Koltira's pained cries echoed through the halls.


End file.
